A Shinra Masquerade
by Kasan Soulblade
Summary: It was an odd invitation, one she'd never even heard of.  The consequences sounded dire.  But were they, or was it just some silly game?  She went, and found the game in play was of masks and fakes, the players were the heart of Shinra.
1. The Email invitation

**IMPORTANT Note to my readers:**

**Hi guys, this is something of a Halloween centric fic, but considering how long it takes me to finish a project I decided to start on this early and hopefully get done by the thirty first of next month. This is a hybrid fic, a story as well as a game, though it can be taken only as a tale. In short talk, all this long chatter means is that you don't have to play if you don't want to. Those who are interested in my little game though can pick one of two forums. The hard way, or the easy, and just to make things difficult I'm not tipping you as to which format is easy or not. Just read the "rules"/intro for more information, and please show me a little mercy. I've never done anything like this before, and I'll try my best not to make a hash of it.**

**Kasan Soulblade**

Introduction for "A Shinra Masquerade",

It was a rule for them all to read their e-mails. When you entered and when you left, to so do less often was to insure a chat with your superiors about following orders. Depending on your department that "chat" could be as mild as a verbal reprimand, or as dangerous as a bullet through the head.

Oh the joys of working at Shinra!

So it was with various levels of dread and trepidation the employees of the Shinra Company opened their folders on their way out.

A select few received the following e-mail on their way out:

"The rules are simple;

I know you're all available, so no weaseling out, only illness of the most dire excuses you, and those who don't comply will be similarly executed. In what form and manner I mean "execute"… well I'll leave you to your imaginings on that score. You're all –more or less- an intelligent batch, you'll come up with more creative ideas then any I could offer, and a few of those might be right.

Abstract, bizarre, outré, all these are the "uniforms" of the day. You are to abandon all obvious shows of rank, station, or power before reentering the Shinra building later tonight. Your actions and choice form will define who you are. The lights will be dim, so what you seem to be will only be limited by your acting skills.

All, save one, is to come in costumed. And that individual will know who he, or she, is by an attachment with said instructions. Those who refuse to come costumed will be severely punished. No names may be used, no guesses tendered –save for the un-costumed individual, who _must_ guess-, again, if any break this rule the consequences will be dire.

Hope to see you all tonight!

The Pheonix"

Offered at the end of the letter for the newest of the Turks was one word. The word was "DOC." and it shimmered. The hue was a sickly off Mako green. For some reason it seemed some how ominous for its alien yet familiar luminescence. She hesitated, then after a moment's doubt clicked upon the icon.

The following list opened up, overlapping the previous page, nearly taking the whole of the screen.

"Welcome to the "cheat sheet". This list is of dubious repute, unreliable, yet secure enough to house a tidbit of information that you might need at some time or another. Use it or not, the choice is yours. Trust it completely and you'd be a fool, for its nature is not as it seems.

VIP list:

A VP of sorts

A Head of Departments, minus a head

Intelligence is synominous with _this_ by the envious

Round mound times two, of conflicting natures to be true

Those virtued in strength, silence, and crass

Loyalty is his virtue, but it lays with his food bowl first.

And (perhaps) many more! After all, I did say the list wasn't complete, didn't I?"


	2. The Protaginist: Black and Blue

A/N: I better explain before people get too confused. This is a story, yes, but it's also a guessing game. The point of it all is to try to figure who's who before everything is revealed in the final chapter. The first chapter is just the e-mail sent to the Shinra employees, as well as an introduction to who might or might not be at the party. This part that you're going to be reading right now is the story, the part previous was just the intro. Hopefully that clears it all up.

Shinra Masquerade 

Black and Blue 

She wore a blue on blue suit and pant combo. Too dark to be baby blue, too light to be midnight blue, so it was called Turk blue. Kinda a pun, in a sick way, since none of the other Shinra "suits" dared to wear blue or black. The colors of bruises were the colors of the Turks, and no one had the guts to challenge that claim.

The elevator made a cheery "ding", and Elena smoothed her suit down with moist hands. Was she nervous? Yeah, a little. It was stupid the way the small things got to her, how the unimportant things could put a bit of shake into her, and she hated it. "Humanity verses professionalism, the never ending war." Rude had made that comment when he'd walked in on her swearing up and down after her nerves had made her jump before she had looked. Granted that "jump" had been the right thing, she'd _done_ the right thing, but how she'd done it had shaken her up.

Shaking her head, banishing the incident from her mind Elena grimaced as she considered the job before her. It wasn't an assassination she was heading today, no espionage this afternoon… or rather no hard core espionage. She'd got the attachment, and the letter, and had already spent half an hour pouring over it. Picking through the naissance of language, trying to pin down who had sent it by word choice alone.

But whoever had sent it was canny, they'd changed style part of the way in. And while it wasn't enough to be blatantly obvious, the change was there. A half hour of musing had left the novice Turk with the following conclusions: either she was dealing with a literary pro who made the change deliberately, that or it was someone with multiple personality disorder, or the author was intelligent enough to have an impressive vocabulary and unfortunate enough to be going through PMS at the time of writing. Also the ending line "Hope to see you there!" was just jarring. Too abrupt to be planed, it seemed an impulsive tag on, and an affectionate one at that.

Which just null and voided everyone in the Shinra Co. from having sent the missive. "Affection" and "Shinra" were at best an oxymoron, at worst they were some odd anti mater concepts that would explode on contact and wipe out a few levels of the Shinra complex while they were at it.

Was this some insane AVALANGE scheme to kill off newb Turks then? Elane seriously considered it, and had packed the appropriate heat just in case. Tucked under her sleeve was a familiar bracelet of sorts, the small circular holes were filled with what she considered the most balanced of stones. And no, she wasn't thinking color coordinated Wautian fung-shui balance either. Lightning material (mastered) as well pre-emptive, a sense, and a regen, were set in those slots. Aggressive and one defensive, and her gun, just to cover all the bases. She smiled and patted the weapon affectionately.

Nothing seemed out of place, nothing suck out in her mind as she aimlessly strolled down the halls of the pre-designated floor. "The calling card is illumination, my trademark." That had been the final line in the document, the answer to where had been a number and that piece of cryptic script. So it was when she found a door to the manager's café ringed round by Christmas lights that Elena just stopped and gapped.

"You've got to be effin' kidding me."

Cheerily the lights flickered, the electricity was tinted a mako green, and though the lights were supposedly colorless due to the off white glass there was a blush of green around the door. They flickered, not by design, but because of the fact that the wires were so worn that the electric current occasionally snapped out of the wire's breaks with a quiet pop or two. As time went on and she stared, and nothing happened Elena gathered her resolve. If this _was_ an AVALANGE plot to kill her it wasn't going to pan out the way they wanted it to. Oh no, she wasn't going to die here, under some bloody defunct x-mas lights for God's sake! Tseng would never let her hear the end of it! Hell, _Reno_ would have such a field day with it if she dared to go out like this.

"Alright," She muttered under her breath. "I'll just get this over with fast. Kill the deranged son of a bitch quick, then head out fast. Never was here, no one will ask what I did Friday night instead of hang out with the Turks at their bar if I throw the body down the trash shoot… If I'm fast enough," she added hopefully, "maybe I can meet the guys up at the One Eye and only be a little late!"

Silently Elena padded up to the door. One hand gripping at her gun, the other reached out for the knob. It was then the door opened before she could give the knob a little turn. A long yellow nose poked out from the darkness beyond the door. Gaudy yellow… no chocobo yellow! The nose was quickly followed by a face, and what a face it was! Slanted forward, speckled with feathers of yellow, red, and orange, the person approaching her wore a sloping mask. The long nosed person –no, it was a beak, the thing was too angular to be called a nose- was clad in a vibrant sunny hue that instinctively brought smiles to children's faces. Despite herself Elane cracked a grin at the robed figure, who obligingly stepped out of the dark room so she could look at him. He/she stared at her from behind the yellow tinted goggles, the yellow was so intense she felt sorry fro the poor guys eyes, they must hurt like heck.

"This doesn't look like a Turk training lesson, or even a mission."

Mutely the figure cocked its head, and though the face was a featureless blur of feathers she imagined it wore a smile.

"This some VP's idea of a joke? Some kiddie costume party for the suits?" Elena continued, waving the hand that wasn't holding the gun to indicate the costumed person's form.

The person bobbed his/her head, he/she was holding fast to their silence.

"So, you aren't going to talk to me? Do I know you?"

"That's the name of the game Dahling!" The figured in yellow purred, its voice smug and screechy. Immediately Elena thought of Scarlet, a glance at the person's large feet debased her of that notion. The person turned on its heel, the obscuring robes speckled with feathers swished around the fauxly talloned feet –little more than shoes with colored paper put over them, Elena noted- like the hem of a dress. Too big, those feet were way too big to be Scarlet's. "I'm Phoenix, and you are Elena, that's all you need to know. Come in, come in, and don't shoot me please. I'm not _that_ fond of the color red!"

"Then you aren't Scarlet." Elane deduced.

A rueful chuckle escaped that throat. It was deep, commanding. The voice behind that yellow bird mask transformed, thickened, and was clearly masculine… as well as being utterly false.

"Now now, no guessing till the end! But, do come in! Come in come in! You shant be early, but you shant be late, have a sip and a bite then prepare…"

Feather gloved hands beckoned even as that false voice crooned just for her. Elena smiled, incredulous, at the person in the phoenix suit.

"And what am I supposed to prepare for?" She challenged.

"For this and that and other things." Was the Pheonix's mysterious reply


	3. The Phoenix: A Bronze Feather

_A/N: As you can see, my Turk's aren't very nice. So many people over romanticize them in my mind… I'm trying to avoid that track. And to belatedly answer a question from the first chapter, yes, there are some parings. One of them is the common Elena Tseng couple. Though it's mild for the moment and I don't expect anything racy to make it into this story. It's on the lines of on sided infatuation on both sides… for the moment at least. _

A Shinra Masquerade 

Bronze Feathers: Enter the Phoenix

Gaudy yellow, marred with spots of red, burnt orange, and tarnished bronze, they were traditionally colors ascribed to the phoenix. But _who's_ tradition those colors came from, that was the most telling. Wuati had a number of stories about the fire bird, and only a few were _civilized_ enough to grace the pages of popular fantasy novels on the Continental side. Those stories panted the phoenix as a creature of fire and healing. They were creatures of light, and because of that they graced a few novels cast in cheery hues of gold, yellow, and red. Good nature, good will, those traits _had_ to be reflected in color scheme, and the pictures she'd seen of it were as gaudy as the creature's nature was fantastic.

In Wuati things were different. They told stores that weren't PG 13. They didn't tone down their ancient lore for the kiddies, to promote "a psychological stimulating and nurturing environment". She remembered during a meeting with Tseng how one time how her eyes had strayed to an ill placed screen. It seemed insane to have a screen that blocked nothing, tucked into the corner of a dirge black office. Still, it was a flash of color and Tseng happened to be harping at her about some rather boring problem that wasn't her fault. So her eyes and strayed and been caught by the familiar image that wasn't so familiar anymore. The phoenix rampant -not on a blue sky or against the sun like normal- but set against a burning city of bronze. To be more accurate it was torching a city of bronze.

Amused rather than annoyed by her transgression –a trait caused by something Reno had slipped into their bosses' coffee, Elena was sure- Tseng had turned to see what had caught her eye. And when he saw he actually smiled.

"Surprised?" He murmured, his voice was always soft, but it became a purr as he murmured. The gentle sound was almost funny when you considered that the man who made it was rumored to kill people who failed him too often. The man who had calmly admitted to her –and to all the rookies during training to test their resolve- that he had once shoot a child at point blank. "Like all things, the Phoenix brings devastation as much as salvation. That is Him burning the city of bronze, an ancient capitol of Wauti that was by the shore. It's said that to this day the land where He cast His flame still refuses to yield life."

Having caught the faint emphasis of his words –Elane always prided herself on picking up the small things- and feeling bold by the fact he wasn't scolding her Elena dared to offer her own opinion. "You make it sound like this Pheonix of yours is some sort of god."

He'd said nothing, but the look he pinned on her was enough to shiver her skin. She'd heard other stories, of him killing people who knew too much, who'd said the wrong thing to the wrong person. Would he kill someone who'd hit a nerve? After some thought the young Turk decided on a tentative, _maybe_, as her answer of choice. There were stories of his temper, terrifying stories of dark homicidal rages, but then when you killed for a living such small mental insanities were going to happen eventually. They all had their small cases of nuttiness. Elane, like Rude, hid hers as best she could and silently coped, Reno evaded them with drink and girls, and Tseng…. Well maybe his people accepted those who'd seen too much and done too much, or maybe not. It wasn't like he was going to break down his barriers and tell her anything.

He glared at her and she remained silent, outwardly unflinching even when on the inside she quaked. Snake black eyes stared at her from under the arches of thick yet well trained 'brows. Finally Tseng broke the moment, and the tension with a smile, one that didn't reach his eyes.

Not one to be fooled -or have her composure broke over a personality shift- Elena had continued to met his gaze as she had before. She remained silent, unflinching, with a faint air of professional submissiveness.

Tseng chuckled then, and the amusement that was on his face caressed his eyes, made the death in them flicker and dance like it was warmth.

"Those born under the Phoenix are powerful forces in their lives, and their deaths are almost as dramatic as their lives." His words and tone carried a hint of a secret to them. As if he was confiding some great piece of information to her.

"And you sir, were you born under the Phoenix astrological sign?" It seemed safe enough a question, neutral, innocent even.

"Hardly," Tseng snorted, sounding amused. "I'm not flamboyant enough for it." Then, as if sensing her unspoken question –but more likely deducing it from her posture and expression and a few other hundred signs- he answered her thought. "A Balisk, for myself. And you, if you must know, are a Rok. The creatures you are imagining aren't quite the same as the ones I am referring to. You're thinking of the beasts that bear those names, I mean the ones that are in the tales of my people."

_My people_, a damning phrase for any Wautian son to use in Midgar. And it was only on reflection that she realized something that would haunt her for many weeks after. Tseng trusted her, he had trusted her then, and perhaps even dared to trust her even now. The thought made her shiver just a little, and she was able to put more steel into her resolve and confidence in her action on later missions to come.

Which, Elena would come to suspect at a later date, was perhaps what Tseng had strived to gain. A few words, a small gesture, then _viola_ attempted perfection from the imperfect Turk. It would make sense, he hadn't had to carp at her about her resolve or confidence ever since that talk between them. Anyways, he had other girls to sped his time with. Elena imagined that a man like Tseng was drawn to more attractive, charming, girls who weren't outspoken or crass as she was.

Shaking off the memories like she'd shake off a few drops of cold water, Elena looked long and hard at her companion. He'd taken her hand, played the perfect gentleman, pulling out her chair and thoughtfully fetching Elena a paper plate and some plastic utensils. He'd thoughtfully provided her a pair of cheap chopsticks and a spoon and fork, pretending to be ignorant of her preference. Yes, _pretending_, because he watched him hesitate from the corner of her eye. His hand had hovered a mere fraction too long over the 'sticks. Again, another damning pause had occurred when she'd taken the sticks, he'd gone past the plate and utensil island and had gathered up a slew of food stuffs. Some were chopstick friendly, most were not, and again he showed his hand. A fraction of a second' pause then he'd pick up the bad, an instantaneous grab for the good. Most of the good mostly consisted of noodles and stir fry. She noted the last with a sigh that she kept strictly internal.

"Chips," she informed him with both dry and ironic, "are not easy to eat with these." She clicked the sticks for emphasis and he mock cringed and playfully groveled.

All his acts were done mutely now; as if in fear she'd find his real voice among the slew of acts he pulled in her presence. She smirked, and tried to decide who and what he was as he skipped off to fetch some bean dip. Tseng would never act like this, she was sure, and she mentally prayed to the Planet that he never heard that she'd been here. Reno, she could see him pulling this stunt, tricking Rude into tagging along, but for all intents and purposes the Phoenix was alone.

And Reno couldn't hold a secret, not this long. It had almost been an hour now, and the Phoenix hadn't cracked.

A loud crunch from right by her made her hop. She turned, and glared into the masked face. His eyes, she looked for them, to meet them head on… They must be somewhere behind those large glass lenses that were tinted such a vibrant yellow that the edges of skin that could be seen around them were a yellow and the eyes themselves were lines cast in shades of gold.

"Don't startle me. If you didn't know, which I'm sure you do, I kill things for a living."

Sheepishly he held a metal nut cracker out to her as a peace offering. She ignored it, and him. Going so far as to turn her back on him before helping herself to some chow-mien. When she heard another heart stopping 'crunch' of a shell breaking she didn't whirl on him, hand on her gun, she pretended to ignore him. The next nut cracking sound was oddly muffled, and the oddness to the sound made her turn.

Comically or thoughtfully (it depended how you looked at it) the person who was calling himself Phoenix was trying to muffle the sound of his snacking by grinding the shell off with one hand and cradling the soon to be eaten nut to his chest. The feathers and fabric softened the sound enough so her first impulse wasn't to jump. She smiled when he looked up and met her eyes.

"You're sweet, but too much of a player to be my type, Reno."

When those oddly colorless yet colorful yellow on yellow eyes met hers she had the impression of laughter. Still he didn't shake his head and give the game away. With a gentle hand she reached out and brushed the front of his robe, smoothing down a bronze feather.

With a grin she tweaked the bronze hued feather and decided one thing for sure. Whoever this Phoenix was, he was... knowledgeable about things. He knew things that people weren't supposed to know about.


	4. Entrance1:Mad Scientist and a wolf

A Shinra Masquerade 

Entrance number one: A Mad Scientist and a Were-Wolf

A childish rhyme played in her head...

"The ants came marching two by two, hurrah, hurrah,

the ants came marching two by two, _hurrah hurrah_..."

The rest of the song was lost. Words became meaningless blurb, a trail of sound that lost coherence. If she were pressed to sing it to the end it would have begun as those words and ended in a hum. The simplistic upbeat melody buzzed in the back of her head, even as the Phoenix left her side to greet the two new comers.

Or rather, he moved to help the tallest of the new comers through the door. Shrouded in a makeshift white coat that was more likely a pair of sheets hastily sewn together, the tall one was having some problems getting in. His struggles showed Elena that pens and a calculator were clipped to a makeshift pocket over the left breast, and that pocket was level with her head. Whoever this person was he was massive, so much so that Elena instinctively went for her gun. Her Turk nerves screamed _monster_... or at the very least _unnatural,_ and her first instinct was to shoot.

Elena sternly reminded herself that this was supposed to be a _party._ And aware that killing the guests would be bad forum if nothing else, the young Turk managed to coax her hand to let go of her gun. It was hard, took a few minutes -time in which Phoenix, who was oblivious to her state, physically forced the monstrously large man to crawl through the door- but her hesitance was actually proving to be a good thing. For one, she managed to figure something about the scientist that pushed all the hostile instincts out of her head. The one that was the simplest, the most obvious, was that he was a fake. She cracked a grin to mock her earlier paranoia. No man could be so tall as to have to crawl through the cafe's double doors. The long neck, the face, was locked in an eternal sneer. They didn't twitch once, not even when the man behind the mask bumped his head into the floor.

Matter of fact as he crawled in his 'glasses' came off. There was no mad groping to retrieve them, no sudden fearful pause that heralded loss of sight in the myopic. The shaggy one who trailed after the 'scientist' actually bent down and thoughtfully set them back on the person's faux face. The other, sensing her scrutiny turned and stared at her over his furry shoulder. Black fur, Elena noted, false long snout and glowing red eyes. Stereotypical werewolf to the core, save for one tiny, amusing, addition. The person playing the wolf was clad in a furry body suit and a white torn shirt and long coat. She smirked and had the impression that maybe under the cover of that long face obscuring mask he or she was smiling too.

She had to admire the wolf person's sense of irony and his or her courage, because the suit he/she was wearing under that furry body suit was none other than one of Rufus' old uniforms. It was torn, slashed -the lack of fraying made her think a knife did the cutting- around the edges; one sleeve had been sliced off completely.

It also looked to be constrictive, very… tight. As she watched the were-wolf playfully rap his scientist companion's frozen face Elena quietly scratched the idea of the wolf being Reno. Yes the motion was playful, but there was little to no sensuality to it. No matter his disguise Reno was Reno, and Reno was interested in everything with breasts that walked on two legs. And he oozed that fact, his need, and his want into everything he did. In short, Reno would have strutted. He would have flaunted what the suit hid and appreciated the challenge of showing off what he could despite his costume.

Lifting a wooden hand the scientist clumsily swatted at the wolf -who in turn slipped gracefully out of the way- then, after a moment's pause the scientist staggered to his feet. The large man's equally massive wooden scalp almost brushed the ceiling as he stood. Elena looked first to the wolf, then to the doctor. She smiled at them both, and decided that this game might actually be fun. Setting her hands on her hips, Elena craned her head up to look the scientist in the "eyes".

"Hojo, seriously, you need to lay off whatever steroids you're taking. Keep it up and you won't be able to take the elevator!"

The phoenix chortled into a yellow gloved hand, the wolf's shoulder's shook in silent amusement.

"Hojo" only tilted his head down so he faced her. His eternal sneer seemed fierce in the dark room. He stared at her, she at him. Then, at last, he broke the silence. Whilst rubbing his hands together let the false Hojo out a very mad scientist-esk cackle.


	5. A Lupine reprimand

Shinra Masquerade

Chapter 5

A lupine's reprimand

He was... very educated... Elena cringed away from the thoughts of her meeting with the "mad scientist". Educated and stuck up, and if he wasn't so freakishly tall she would have wagered good gill that he was Hojo. But no, the scientist wasn't, and a number of things tipped her off to that fact. One, well one he was too perfect the scholar. He was acquainted with every modern theory to come around last week, even the ones that were pure mummery, and he couldn't distinguish between one and the other. Second -and most telling- was the voice was a product of a voice distorter, and the only reason she recognized it was that there was a faint hiss of static every time the Scientist spoke. Sipping at her cup of coffee, Elena decided what the hell; she needed a full wake up call after all that dry talk. She held her face over it and let the fumes get to her head. That helped to clear away the proverbial dust that had gathered there, and the taste wasn't half bad. Taking a sip she watched at Phoenix and Scientist cheerily talked mako theory into the dirt. Another sip was indulged upon, the faint taste of cream and granular texture a scoop of sugar was making a drink she considered horribly one sided more versatile than normal. Between sips she watched the chocobo feathered Phoenix swish his tail feathers and pull a dance that was clearly meant to be scandalous. A distinct lack of grace made it appear more comical than anything else. The oversized "talons" probably had a lot to do with that than a lack of true grace. The scientist responded to the free show in a screechy voice, and the Scientist's lecture was akin to one that an offended school marm might give. Elena cracked a small grin at the sight, even though the raised voice of "Hojo" was trying on the ears.

The meetings mutual host seemed half inclined to amuse his guests and wholly inclined to amuse himself. A little selfish in that, Elena noted, but it was a restrained selfishness.

She decided that whoever this Phoenix was she wasn't going to be mad at him from dragging her away from an ordinary night's entertainment -which was just fancy talk for a night spent drinking with Reno and Rude.

Lights, more of the recalled type, were strung across the ceiling, giving the illusion of stars. The normal neon lights were left off, and only the flickering Christmas lights provided illumination. The gloom was soothing though, and after a long time just sitting and looking she was able to make out the whole of the room, though the details were a bit fuzzy. Long tables that were covered with all types of food held prominence in the center of the room. The tables had long benches attached, and the wheels that served as leg ends suggested that they were meant to be temporary. She found the large number of chairs odd, their placement even odder. Most were folded and stacked against the back wall, but amongst them was something that clearly did not fit the description of chair or table. Tucked in one corner, half hidden by the gloom was a squat black box. The Wolf in Rufus' clothes was besides that box, idly running a hand over it's top. Seeing Elena's gaze he or she nodded then waved a hand in invitation.

Taking the coffee cup with her, Elena accepted the offer. Red tinted glass eyes watched her approach, the gleamed with false ferocity in the off green light that came off from above. As she approached she half expected to be met half way. He didn't move, merely set one hairy hand on the top of the box and leaned against it. No nod, no raspy salutation, no mocking growl, the Wolf didn't act the least wolfish. Her assumptions and expectations fell to the dust as the lupine's silence stretched on and on, and continued even when she introduced herself and offered him/her a hand.

The massive shaggy head tilted to the side, the long snout was motionless, but the skill itself was mobile... or at least it responded and set the whole face to swiveling when the head moved. A face covering than, and perhaps a wig atop that to add to the facade of size and shagginess. The broad shoulders underneath… those were not fake. Just the way the Wolf had moved earlier when baiting the "scientist" or greeting the phoenix had told her as much.

She tried again. "Hello."

Only silence and staring answered her salutation.

"You don't talk then?"

That brought forth a nod, and though she couldn't see the face under the mask she had the impression that whoever was under the facade was wearing a smile as well as faux fur.

"And do I know you so well that you're scared I'll recognize your voice? Even if you act like Phoenix does and change your act every other second?" She laughed at the Wolf's small nod. "Don't worry, God, I should know everyone where... or at least I think I should. But I don't. So far everyone that's come is a pretty good actor. I'm going to be guessing all night."

A small jerk of the head, a minute shake, that was the Wolf's response, but to what he was so mildly disagreeing with Elena wasn't sure. And Yes, Elena was certain it was a male under that mask. The shoulders were far too broad to be a woman's. Despite how the costume was obscuring it was not so much so that she couldn't catch how the whole of it rose and fell in time with the wearer's breathing. Too natural to be false, Elena decided to trust her intuition. The Wolf was a male, unfortunately that discovery only took Scarlet out of the running and put almost everyone in Shinra back in.

"So, I know you, huh?" With a wide grin she circled the Wolf, who silently turned to gauge her circuit. "So that means you're either a Turk, or that creep at the gym who keeps trying to bug the woman's locker room." She stopped then, and he in turn stopped. Blue eyes met artificial red, her grin was met with a frozen snarl. "Since I beat the crap out of that pervert I'll put my gill down on the Tu-"

One shaggy hand snapped over her mouth, silencing her. Fake plastic claws lightly scratched at her cheek as strong fingers covered her lips. A powerful arm gently draped over her shoulder, and tugged her forward until they were nose to snout.

A whoop from the other side of the room -from the Phoenix, no doubt- made Elena's back stiffen. Her hands clenched into fists and the bracelet on her wrist hummed as the materia within responded to the violate force of her anger. He leaned forward, white plastic teeth grazed her cheek due to his nearness, and she shivered. The hand that was over her lips let go and snapped over her wrist, firmly covering the Shinra bracer and it's accompanying materia.

"You are too aggressive, and you detract from yourself and the experience because of this." The voice _was_ familiar! Though obscured by a fake raspy note and deepened Elena could almost recognize it! She squirmed a bit and the hand on her wrist tightened a fraction more, silently ordering her to be still. Once she obeyed she was released. "It's all just a game and for those of us playing we'd like you to wait till the end before you guess."

Shaken Elena stepped back, her hand drifting to her gun. "Bastard! You ever touch me like that again I'll..."

A nod then, he agreed it seemed. then he was back to being silent. After a tense span of meeting her outraged eyes the Wolf in Rufus' clothes shrugged and padded off. Taking one deep breath, than another, Elena was able to shake off her anger. At least it wasn't to the point she was going to shoot the dog. Running a hand through her hair Elena considered rejoining the other guests, but decided against it. For now she'd wait on the sidelines, cool down, then only when she was ready would she go back and mingle.

Setting her hand on the short black box Elena leaned against it. She watched with narrowed eyes and avid interest how the Phoenix approached the Wolf. A few gestures on the Wolf's part sent Phoenix off to entertain himself elsewhere. Elena's contemplative frown became a gap of surprise as her hand absently strolled the length of the black fuzzy box. She jerked way from the black cube when her hand came in contact with something cold and metallic. Berating herself for overreacting, the rookie Turk lifted on of the things off the box and tilted it up so it would better catch the light. It was a disk, small enough to fit in her palm, a quick scan of the writing on it reveled it to be a music CD.

When she was able to make out some of the tracks on the first CD she nearly dropped it in shock. The writing... some of it was in Continental some of it was in Wutian. She'd considered the taste in food quaint, amusing, and somewhat open-minded... But this obvious two sided taste in music, this blending of two wildly different cultures spoke less of open mindedness and more of... more of what? Treason, to the Continental side? Could it be treason when the war was done and had been done for for over ten years? Suddenly, Elena wasn't sure anymore. She wasn't sure of anything or anyone.


	6. Critic

Shinra Masquerade

Chapter 6

Critic perusal

_Poke_

Lifting her gaze from the now empty cup of coffee Elena turned and nearly hopped out of her boots in shock. Less than an inch from side was that familiar yellow beak which had prodded her on the shoulder. Releasing her death grip on her gun Elena scowled.

"I thought I told you not to surprise me!"

_Poke_

Elena return smack struck the beak hard enough so that the face it was tied too would feel the jolt of her blow. The Phoenix winced a bit at the hit, and did nothing save stare at her from behind those fake yellow eyes. At last Elena sighed and turned away from him, felling annoyed and frustrated. Her little chat with the Wolf hadn't done much for her humor this evening.

"Are you always so crabby on your off time? You seem like a different person when you're on the clock." The Phoenix noted mildly. The rustle of feathers being stirred told the young Turk that whoever he was he'd felt the blow, and was probably stroking some part of his mask in a futile attempt to alleviate the pain. "Remind me not to talk to you before your morning cup."

Despite herself Elena smiled. She rubbed at her temple with a hand and watched with a bored gaze as the Wolf and Scientist got into some sort of conversation. They were too far out of range to hear a word, and as for lip reading the masks were too great a deterrent for that to be reliable.

"I've been on intensive duty for over a month, hard dirty work. I'm wound up to the point of nearly snapping." Elena explained, almost but not quite telling the truth about her job. That she'd spent the last month quietly slipping into people's lives and leaving a trail of bodies behind.

"So I was warned. However I didn't heed that warning, and for that I apologize."

Turning to face him the Turk arched one eyebrow. "And how would you know anything about the Turks? What we do and how we do it? I thought that was classified."

"I'm a girl with connections, dearhaaart." Phoenix purred, falling into what Elena was fast becoming to identify as the "Scarlet dialect".

"You don't have a big enough of a bust to be Scarlet." Elena snorted. "Actually, you don't have one, period, so stop acting like her."

Phoenix laughed at that, it was a shrill screeching laughter that made Elena's nerves jangle.

"No surprises then, I promise. With your permission may I lay a hand on the lady?"

"If you pull a Reno on me I'll break that hand in several places."

Phoenix only laughed at that. This time it was a low throaty chuckle that came closer to the man's real voice than all the other's combined. Without further adu he set a gloved hand on her shoulder, then promptly set his head upon that hand.

"I've a gift to the lady, two, if she would permit?" Phoenix murmured, an inquisitive note making the statement a request.

"I'll think about it." Elena grumbled.

"Than, for the lady, an accessory." A bit of motion, the barest stirring, then the Phoenix presented something small and red to her. She took it, amused, and rolled it about in her hands until she was sure of it.

"An apology?" Elena snorted, considering the crimson rose in her hands in the weak light.

"From me, yes, from the gift's originator... it has more meaning than that."

"Originator?"

"Alas." Releasing her the Phoenix stepped forward in a majestic sweep, the tail feathers scrapping on the floor however detracted from the motion. Setting one gloved hand upon his head the Phoenix contemplated the ceiling with wide unblinking yellow eyes. "I am not the giver of this gift, merely the messenger Chocobo."

Despite herself Elena grinned a bit at the Phoenix's melodrama. The head dropped down and he whirled on his taloned feet to face her once again. Yellow gloved hand clasped behind his back he stared at her with an intensity that was both jarring but somehow... not hostile.

"I'll make you a deal, if you'd like. You're probably alive with curiosity." The Phoenix rocked back on the heels of his talons. Back and forth, a kind of still pacing. Yet despite the constant rocking those eyes remained pinned on her. "Wouldn't you like to know who gave what and who's here now? You play my game and guess right, and I'll tell you who this is from. But no walking away, no stopping half way because it's too hard or too strange." One hand was wordlessly extended to seal the bargain.

"That sound's suspiciously like a speech, Mr. Phoenix."

"It is. I'm good at them, I'm so good I managed to talk several people who didn't want to come into coming. You're one of them."

The shadows were thick, a kind of gloomy overhanging that was barely dispelled by the winking lights overhead. Perhaps it was her over active imagination but the way the shadows fell over the edge of that beak... the unsure lighting made it seem almost like he was smiling. Elena looked into those blank yellow eyes and then reached out to take the Phoenix's hand.

The man's grip was strong, a mite hot, and a sleeve feather tickled her wrist.

"Do you know who I am yet?" The Phoenix asked, cocking his head to the side. The motion was reminiscent of a bird considering it's quarry.

"No, and it doesn't matter, for _now_." Elena released her hold, and the Phoenix made an odd clicking noise in the back of his throat. "But I'll tell you, later tonight."

With a delighted chuckle that sounded more real than all the other impersonations and dialects he'd put on so far the Phoenix leapt back gracefully. Half turning he bowed to indicate the door. The steady light under it was flickering, as if muffled and blocked by a set of feet fast approaching.

"Then, for the mademoiselle, I present you the other guests, all for your oh-so critical perusal!"

And at his words the door banged open, and yet more guests arrived.


End file.
